


you make me laugh until i die (can you think of any better way to choke?)

by tamquams



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M, Ronan Compliant Language, fluff without a plot, just guys being boyfriends, summer at the barns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24433405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamquams/pseuds/tamquams
Summary: Summers in Virginia were scathing, an uncomfortable haze of sun-bleached clothes and sweat-puckered skin. The weather alternated between blinding sunshine and violent thunderstorms, but even on the clearest days, the humidity was so thick it threatened to choke anyone who dared leave the comfort of their air-conditioned homes.Summers at the Barns were mostly the same — still hot and unpleasantly humid, still tormented by storms that seemed to come from nowhere — but there was one great difference: Ronan.
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 21
Kudos: 165





	you make me laugh until i die (can you think of any better way to choke?)

**Author's Note:**

> howdy!! it's been over a week since i last posted so i figured it was time to share something new!! did i write this to avoid working on any of my active wips? yes, yes i did. this has no plot whatsoever, it's really just fluff and a peak into summer at the barns!! i hope you like it ♡

Summers in Virginia were scathing, an uncomfortable haze of sun-bleached clothes and sweat-puckered skin. The weather alternated between blinding sunshine and violent thunderstorms, but even on the clearest days, the humidity was so thick it threatened to choke anyone who dared leave the comfort of their air-conditioned homes. 

Summers at the Barns were mostly the same — still hot and unpleasantly humid, still tormented by storms that seemed to come from nowhere — but there was one great difference: Ronan.

Adam wasn’t sure when he had realized it was different. He had spent every summer that he could remember outside, avoiding his father or earning enough money to eat for the week, and so he was accustomed to discomfort caused by the weather. It was something that couldn’t be changed, and he had taught himself to ignore it as much as possible. Now that he was free of the trailer park, free of the grips of poverty, this coping mechanism was no longer necessary, but like most survival instincts, it was difficult to shake. For weeks after graduation, after moving into the Barns, he still found himself waking early in the morning and heading outside to find something productive to do. At first, Ronan had tried to help him sleep in later and grow comfortable lounging around the house, but it was no use; Adam was an object in motion, even when there was no reason to be.

So, he was used to the heat. He started out the day in a t-shirt and cargo shorts, and sometime around noon he would strip off his shirt and wrap it around his shoulders instead to periodically wipe away the sweat on his face. At some point in the early afternoon, Ronan would round him up and force him inside for lunch, and when the kitchen was clean they would both head back outside so Adam could continue his work and Ronan could sit in the shade and watch. Most of the time, Adam slaved over the engine of the Hondayota, hoping vainly to adjust just the right bolt and find the vehicle in working order again. These days were Ronan’s favorites, and so there were many of them, because Adam Parrish could deny himself nearly anything but he could never say ‘no’ to Ronan. Even if Ronan’s idea of “entertainment” was shouting sexually-explicit commentary as Adam bent over the engine of the shitbox and wiped futilely at the grease stains on his skin.

The summer was half gone when Adam woke up one morning and realized that he was looking forward to his day. He had spent most of his life dreading things, or at the very best, feeling neutral about them; the idea of looking forward to something was so foreign to him that it took him several seconds to place it. In that time, Ronan managed to wake and roll over, throwing an arm around Adam as if to keep him in bed for just a few moments longer.

“Good morning,” Ronan said, his voice rough with sleep. His eyes were closed as he nuzzled his face against Adam’s neck, his long nose tickling the warm skin there. 

_Yes_ , Adam thought as he pulled Ronan closer, _it is_. He slid his hand along Ronan’s spine, picturing the curves and claws of the tattoo in his mind’s eye as he pressed his palm flat against the small of Ronan’s back. “Good morning,” he agreed, “my love.”

He could feel Ronan’s face turning red where it was hidden in the crook of his neck. “The fuck did you just call me?” Ronan muttered, punctuating the question with a quick nip at Adam’s collarbone. Despite the sharpness of both his words and his bite, his lips were curved into a soft smile at the base of Adam’s throat. 

“Oh, do I need to say it again?” Adam shifted one leg to cross his ankle with Ronan’s, bringing Ronan’s full weight down on him. Even in the heat, it was a comfortable feeling to be held in place, not that he would ever admit it — and not that it would ever be comfortable with anyone other than Ronan. “Good morning, _my love_.”

“Ugh,” Ronan groused, even as he wiggled around until he was completely on top of Adam. “You’re gross.”

Adam hummed in agreement. “I am,” he conceded, his face flushing as Ronan began to pepper his neck and clavicle with kisses. “And you love me.”

“I do love you.” After six months of hearing it, Adam should have been used to it — he wasn’t. His skin blushed deeper and Ronan grinned into it, scraping his teeth in the space between collarbones.

“Ronan,” said Adam, and it was half a word and half a moan. This only served to encourage Ronan, and he hooked his fingers in the waistband of Adam’s boxers, but Adam circled his wrists with steady hands and stilled them. “Ronan,” he tried again, his voice firmer. Ronan stopped moving.

Ronan sat up. “You okay?” he asked, and his face was carefully expressionless. He shifted like he was considering climbing off Adam’s lap, but he paused, probably to hear what Adam had to say. Adam nodded. 

“I’m good,” he said, rather breathless. “I’m great. I just — I —” It occurred to him that he didn’t really know what he had meant to say, just that he had wanted to say _something_. “I love you so much.”

Ronan’s chest flushed. He was quiet for a moment, and then he prompted, “But?”

Adam pushed himself up on his elbows and cocked his head, his brows furrowing. “But what?”

“You tell me.” Ronan lifted a hand to chew on the leather bands at his wrist. 

Something like anxiety pulsed through Adam’s veins. “I don’t know what’s happening right now.”

Ronan’s eyes flicked away from him. “You said ‘I love you so much,’ and it sounded like you were going to follow it with ‘but’ something.”

“Why would I say ‘but’ anything?” Adam reached out one hand and placed it gently on Ronan’s thigh, squeezing lightly. “I love you. So much. ‘But’ nothing. I love you, and that’s all there is.”

The corner of Ronan’s mouth twitched. “That’s all there is?” he repeated, his voice low and insecure. Adam never wanted him to be insecure about how much Adam loved him for the rest of his life.

“That’s all there is.” Adam’s hands slid up to Ronan’s waist. “I love you,” he enunciated each word carefully and gently, “and that is all there is.” He was already smiling by the time Ronan leaned down to kiss him.

They only kissed for a few minutes before Ronan rolled off of Adam and slid his legs off the bed. “Where are you going?” Adam mumbled, his words slightly slurred. “Come back.”

Ronan clicked his tongue as he stood up and walked to the dresser. “Needy,” he said, but there was no sting to it. He pulled a pair of jeans from a drawer and stepped into them, smiling at Adam where he was still sprawled out in bed. “Sorry, babe, I’ve got work to do. And so do you. Up and at ‘em, sunshine.” He opened another drawer and pulled out a pair of shorts for Adam, tossed them down on the bed. Adam glared.

“The one day I wanna stay in bed all day,” he muttered, but it wasn’t true anyway. He pushed himself out of the bed and got dressed.

They had leftover pizza for breakfast ( “Lynch, if you put that pizza in the microwave, so help me—” “What, you expect me to eat cold pizza, Parrish?” “Cold pizza is the best pizza! Have you even tried it?” “Well, no, but—” “But nothing. Just try it.” “.......Shit. That’s good. Why did Declan tell me it was illegal to eat cold pizza for the first twelve years of my life?” “How did that not make you want to try it _more_?”) and drank too much coffee (“Jesus, Parrish, slow down, why don’t you?” “Daylight’s wasting. I have an idea for the shitbox that I’m gonna try out today.” “Is that so? Hm, I suddenly have an urgent engagement in the shade of the front porch.” “You’re such a creep.” “Shut up, you love it.”) and made out in the entryway (“God, Lynch, if you were gonna accost me like this, why’d we leave the bedroom?” “Do you wanna talk or do you wanna make out?” “Fuck it.”) and it was almost midday by the time they made it outside.

True to his word, Ronan threw himself down into a rocking chair on the porch the moment that Adam popped the Hondayota’s hood. Ronan only had to shout “Take it off!” once for Adam to shuck his t-shirt, but he kept his back to Ronan to make sure his boyfriend couldn’t see the smile on his face. It was ridiculous — everything was ridiculous — and Adam’s heart was so big that he thought he’d be perfectly happy to stay in that moment forever.

It was well past noon when Ronan dragged Adam inside for lunch, and in another hour they were stumbling outside again, Adam’s hair sticking straight up in the back and Ronan’s clothing even more disheveled than usual. They shielded their eyes from the overbearing sunshine and walked right past the shitbox, Adam slipping a hand in Ronan’s back pocket as they wandered instead to the small dreamt-up pond near the edge of the property.

“Okay,” Ronan was saying, scratching at the back of his head absently. “Would you rather… talk to Gansey about your sex life…” Adam made a disgusted noise. “Or… talk to Cheng about _his_ sex life?” 

Adam repeated his disgusted noise, significantly louder. “Is there a third option?” he demanded. “Like, I dunno, _die_?”

Ronan snorted. “No third option. That’s not how the game works. You gotta pick.”

“I hate you,” Adam said. “Ugh. Fine. I guess Gansey. Because he would be even more embarrassed than me. And I do _not_ wanna know what Cheng is into. I’m traumatized enough as it is, thank you very much.”

“Fine, fair enough. Okay, now it’s your turn.”

“Hm,” said Adam, thinking. “Would you rather… dress like Gansey for a week…” His smile grew wider. “...or dress like Cheng for a month?”

Ronan groaned. “Fuck, I forgot how fucking devious you are.” His words were judgmental, but his tone was adoring. “Gotta go with Cheng. He wears, like, Madonna t-shirts and skinny jeans. That’s not too different from my usual look. But Gansey’s polos and chinos?” He shuddered dramatically. “I’d rather fight a night horror, thanks.”

Adam’s laugh was bright and unbridled. “I think you could pull it off. You’d be like a sexy teacher or something.”

“Parrish,” Ronan said, low and mocking, “don’t tell me you’re into that sort of thing.”

“I’m not,” said Adam with a shrug, although the flush of his face and upper chest directly countered his nonchalance. “I’m into _you_.”

Ronan scoffed. “Ew. You are _not_ smooth. We’ve gotta work on your pick-up lines.” He pinched Adam’s hip and then smoothed it over with the pad of his thumb before Adam could retaliate. “And I’m telling Gansey that you think he looks like a sexy teacher.”

“That is _not_ what I said!” Adam squawked. “I said _you_ would look like a sexy teacher dressed like that. When _he_ dresses like that, he looks…”

“Divine?” suggested Ronan, feigning innocence. “Exquisite?”

Adam shouldered him, not unkindly. “I was going to say ‘pretentious as fuck-all.’”

This surprised a laugh out of Ronan, sharp and loud. “You’re hot as fuck when you swear, Parrish,” he said, snaking an arm around Adam’s waist to pull him closer. 

Adam hummed his consideration. “I should make a list of your kinks. One: hands. Two: gasoline. Three: cars in general. Four: swearing.” It was Ronan’s turn to blush. “Am I missing anything?”

Ronan opened his mouth to say something, but then a wicked smirk crossed his face. “Yeah, actually,” he said. “This.” And with that, he stopped in front of the pond and pushed Adam in.

The water wasn’t too deep, and Adam surfaced almost immediately. He sputtered indignantly, spewing water everywhere, and then shook his hair out of his face. “You are _dead_ , Lynch,” he said as Ronan stepped out of his jeans.

“What was that, babe?” Ronan pulled his shirt off and then backed up a few steps. “I couldn’t hear you over the sound of complete and utter betrayal.” He took a few running steps and then jumped in, pulling his legs to his chest in order to to maximize his splash size.

Judging by the look on Adam’s face when Ronan finally resurfaced, he had succeeded in his splashing attempt. “You alright, _my love_?” Ronan said teasingly, wading toward Adam. Adam remained stock still where he stood, waist-deep and glaring daggers, until Ronan finally stopped within arm’s reach.

“You’re a menace,” Adam deadpanned, crossing his arms. It was obvious that he wasn’t really mad — there was no tension in his shoulders, no crease between his eyebrows — but that didn’t make him any less dangerous. He narrowed his eyes.

Ronan just gave half a shrug, smiling innocently (or as innocently as he could, with all of his sharp lines and jagged edges). “And you’re so perfect?”

Adam blinked slowly, unimpressed. “I’m an angel,” he said drily. “I don’t deserve this.”

“Well,” Ronan snorted, taking another step forward, inserting himself in Adam’s space. “You’re welcome to leave.”

At that, Adam finally dropped his expressionless façade, furrowing his brows. He leaned his forehead against Ronan’s bare shoulder and inhaled deeply, wrapping his arms loosely around Ronan’s waist. “Never,” he said, and Ronan folded his arms around his boyfriend’s shoulders.

“Good,” Ronan huffed, turning his head to bury his nose in Adam’s wet hair. “Because that was a fucking lie. You’re not welcome to leave. I want you to stay here forever. And you just said you would, so, no take-backs.”

They both knew it wasn’t true — in just over a month, Ronan would be driving Adam to Harvard and everything would be different — but it wasn’t a lie, either, not really. Because Adam wasn’t _leaving_. He was going to school and then he was coming back, because he would always come back to Ronan. If Adam was the needle of a compass, then Ronan was due north; Adam would always, always find him.

“You are the love of my life,” Adam said, very softly, almost too quietly to hear.

Inexplicably, Ronan felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “And you’re mine,” he whispered in Adam’s hearing ear.

They were very quiet and very still for a very long time, just holding each other, just listening to their own breathing and the sounds of nature and dream-creatures all around them, until Adam pressed a feather-light kiss to Ronan’s shoulder. “You know, I’m—”

Ronan ran a hand through Adam’s damp hair. “Yeah,” he said, interrupting Adam. “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> well, i hope you enjoyed!! and i hope you're all doing well and staying safe!! as always, you're welcome to come interact with me on tumblr, i'm @wespers and i make gifs & edits and talk to people and post about adam parrish too much! thank you for reading ♡ p.s. title comes from glory by bastille, and it had absolutely nothing to do with this fic except for the fact that i listened to glory by bastille on repeat for two days while writing and editing this (why did this take me 2 days? because i'm pathetic)


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